Sep 23
There are a select few places in this world where all the right ingredients come together to grow truly giant lifeforms - The Redwoods of Northern California, Sequoias of the Southern Sierra, and Humans of Houston, TX, to name a few. The Kispiox River in Northern BC is another such place, and grows a super-race of steelhead unlike any other in the world.
At first glance, the Kispiox doesn’t look particularly out of the ordinary, a medium sized stream with beautiful swinging runs, somewhat similar to that of the lower Trask. But as you dig a little deeper, you quickly come to realize that the Kispiox is no ordinary river, and its fish are, simply put, extraordinary.
We began our first day on the Kispiox like every other day in BC, in the wee hours of 11:30am. Within ten minutes, we were floating by Harry Lemire and watching him release a fish that he’d just taken on a single hand rod and a dry line. The Kispiox is that kind of magical place.
We’d planned on fishing Tungsten tips, as that had been the ticket the previous days on the Bulkley, but Mr. Lemire’s feat told us otherwise. Fast forward seven hours of dry lines, Type-3s, and no fish… Ken and I are swinging through upper Potato Patch on opposite sides of the river, Ken with the bright idea to go back to T-11 and myself still stuck on my “Fish will move for the Type-3!!!” mentality.
Within minutes, Ken is into a fish. I put on a Type-6, and keep swinging. Ken loses the fish, and a few minutes later is into another. Same flies, same run, different tips, and I’m getting hosed. I stubbornly continue to swing my Type-6 until Ken hooks his THIRD fish in less than 20 minutes. I rig up 10’ of T-14, go back up to the top of the run where I’d already fished, and about 10 casts later you can guess what happens.
So it went on the Kispiox for three days. Big flies, heavy tips, and the most jawdroppingly large and beautiful sea-run rainbows I’ve ever seen.
Four days later, leaving Smithers on our way back to the US of A, Ken looks at us and says “We’re in the middle of making a huge mistake.”
“What, eating at Dairy Queen?”
“No, leaving this place!!!”
We both get a glimmer of madness in our eyes, bust out the iPhone calendar, and decide to head back up in 4 weeks. See you soon, BC.
39.5”. On a 6126. Good Times.
More pics after the jump…
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Sep 27
Day 6 - The Kispiox River
We slept in horribly on Thursday, but it was worth it. Arrived at the Kispiox at about 10am, to find a river that has much more in common with the Wilson River in April than the Bulkley or the Skeena. When we’d arrived in Smithers 6 days prior, we heard that the Kispiox was fishing well. It dropped considerably over the next week. Boneheaded move to not check the flows before buying our classified waters license, but oh well, lesson learned.
The Kispiox is one of the most storied Steelhead rivers in the world, and has been since the 1950s when fly anglers began returning to the States with stories of 35-40lb Steelhead, among the largest in the world. It’s a common paradox with Steelhead - the biggest fish often come from the smallest streams.
At about noon we stopped at a bridge, where we could see four good sized steelhead lurking in the gin-clear water below. Spent a few minutes casting to them, but it was futile. The first fish I swung to spooked at his first glimpse of my fly.
Finding access on the Kispiox is tough, and would be even tougher when the river is at a higher, more ideal flow. In the future, I won’t mess with this river without a boat of some sorts.
We fished until about 4pm, at which point we decided to bail, go pack up camp, and head to the Morice River which was about two hours away.
As we were walking back to the car, Doug spied a nice submerged tree - perfect Dolly habitat. First cast, a grab, and a nice 12” cut-bow to hand. Second cast, and an even nicer sea-run cut took his fly!
No steelhead, but at least we didn’t get entirely skunked on the Kispiox.
Day 7 - The Morice River
The Morice River is the largest tributary of the Bulkley, supplying 90% of it’s water. The name is really a misnomer and the Morice is essentially the Upper Bulkley, similar in size and character.
After a quick pit-stop in Smithers for Beer and Maynards, we were on the Morice by dusk and found what was my favorite campsite of the trip. Free, with some amazing camp water, and equally amazing population of Bears. There would be no sleeping in the next day - our last in BC - and we were up and on the water by first light.
Doug started off below camp, and Niall and I hiked above. Both runs were fairly short, but primo, Doug landed two fish and I landed one.
And that was it for the trip. We each missed a few grabs that afternoon and evening, Niall caught a nice dolly, we found a bumper crop of Shaggy Mane mushrooms and had a feast, and Doug had a stare-down with a monstrous Grizzly.
